


Over-Easy

by Ephermeralk



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-03-20 04:23:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3636609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ephermeralk/pseuds/Ephermeralk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jensen’s not into strippers, but he is into the $2 breakfast specials the local strip club serves. And, alright. If he’s pressed on the issue, one of their servers--Jared--is pretty hot, too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Over-Easy

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Written as my march submission to smpc. Thanks go to sleepypercy for the superquick beta, and to Parks and Rec for the breakfast food inspiration. Also, I’ve had a migraine all day that I can’t shake, so, uh, everything from here on out it 100% my non-functioning brain’s fault.

There’s nothing that Jensen loves more than breakfast food. Eggs, cooked any which way (alright, scrambled is definitely his favorite, but over easy takes a close second), spread over a bagel or two slices of toast. That milk and cheese soaked concoction littered with tomatoes and green onions, topped with a dollop of sour cream is sheer perfection in Jensen’s mouth. And bacon. Of course. He loves the way that bacon simultaneously crunches and melts, opening his taste buds to the flavor of decadence and pure, unadulterated animal fat. 

It’s his church, getting breakfast on Sunday. Worshiping every bite of over-saturated, over-salted food and drink of his Bloody Mary until his plate is clean and his glass, empty. 

Of course, the best breakfast joint in this piece of shit town that Jensen’s stuck getting his MD in happens to be a strip club. A gay strip club. Entitled The Peacock. It’s a real class act. Even has a second floor that the patrons and staff alike call the top of the cock.

Not that Jensen’s gone up there. Nope. He might be gay, but stripping? It doesn’t do anything for him. 

Jensen likes guys who are smart. Who know that the neurotransmitter GABA inhibits neurons from firing. Or who can name all 12 cranial nerves in order and what they enervate. Not poor excuses for psych-undergrads with a host of parental issues. Jensen doesn’t have time for that shit. 

He does, however, have time for breakfast on Sundays. Or, he makes time anyways. Usually with his Principles of Internal Medicine tucked safely underneath his elbow, white pages smudged with grease. 

It’s $2 for two eggs, two pieces of toast, and two slices of bacon, and Jensen can’t get that kind of deal any else. Breakfast, however, also comes with the price tag of being forced to put up with ripped guys in sequin g-strings trying to grind against his leg, or the self-assured ones, right into his crotch. 

Which is a pain, of course, but hey—there’s breakfast on the line, and for $2 worth of deliciousness, Jensen puts up with it. He’s learned to say no in a variety of different ways. Mostly without looking, because fuck, if he looks, then sometimes he can’t help but think with his dick, which doesn’t always remember that he really really doesn’t want to screw around. That he’s into committed relationships and hot guys who are going somewhere with their lives. Not the kind that workout 24 hours a day to look good taking off their clothes. 

Anyway, despite the fact that Jensen doesn’t like having barely-dressed men try to straddle him, it seems a bit odd that this morning he hasn’t been approached. Not once. After he’s finished his eggs and bacon Jensen goes to bathroom. Studies his face in the mirror. 

Two green eyes—check. Cheek bones littered with freckles—check. Glasses perched on his nose—check. Bright red, slightly wet lips and shortly spiked hair—check. 

He hasn’t changed, doesn’t have food all over his face. Definitely hasn’t lost his attractiveness sometime between last Sunday and today. Jensen takes a moment to splash cold water on his face. Straightens his glasses. Adjusts his navy-blue polo with tiny, pink moose embroidered on it. The shirt was a birthday present from his grandmother, and Jensen can’t seem to throw it away. He’s just about to leave, satisfied with his assessment, when the door to the bathroom opens. 

It brings with it a man taller than Jensen by at least a few inches. He’s got on knee-length, blue jean shorts with holes ripped into the thighs and a bright pink and orange plaid, button-down shirt. Once Jensen’s eyes make it up to his face, he might as well have blinded himself for looking at any future guys. 

Because this one—he’s perfect. 

He’s all angles. Slanted eyes. High cheek bones. Square chin. Pointed jaw. Even pointier nose. Hair pulled back into a messy bun, curls gathering at the base of his neck with fly-away strands framing his face. 

“Hey Jensen,” he says, walking around him easily to use the urinal next to him, and Jensen’s too busy wondering how the fuck he knows his name to sneak a peek at what he’s packing. 

“Uh, I’m sorry, do I know you?” 

“Oh, sorry man. I’m Jared. You were my TA in biochem a few years back, and well. I’ve been serving you for the past few months here. Not that, uh, you’ve wanted my services, so to speak.” 

“You?” Jensen questions, because he totally would have remembered Jared. Unless—oh. Jensen had never looked any farther up than the glittered thong and the six-pack of tanned abs. 

“Yup.” It’s clear from the way that Jared’s smiling that the mortification Jensen’s feeling must be present on his face. “That was me.” 

Jensen coughs awkwardly. “Well, uh. You look nice today, Jared.” 

“Thanks,” he says, tucking himself back in and reaching over the sink to wash his hands. “You know, I’ve got a five minute break if you want to go out back and talk.” 

There’s over two-hundred pages on lipids and cardiovascular risk management that Jensen still needs to study, especially if he wants to get matched with a decent residency. But it’s also been a long, long time since Jensen got laid and the chances are high that he’ll study better after a quick blowjob rather than spending the whole rest of the afternoon distracted, picturing Jared’s lips split open around his dick. 

He follows Jared out to the brick alley and watches as Jared digs into his pockets and pulls out a pack of cigarettes, lighting up with a flick of his thumb. 

Talk about cardiovascular risk management. 

It shouldn’t be hot. Not at all. Except that it accents just how long Jared’s fingers are, and how Jared’s already massive chest gains another few inches when he inhales. 

“Save the lecture, Doc,” Jared tells him, even though Jensen doesn’t have the guts to tell him that’s not where his mind was. Not at all. “I’m quitting. This is the last one, right here.” 

Jensen nods, but he doesn’t care about the lies that are coming out of Jared’s mouth. People lie, that’s just part of living. 

Even if they don’t realize it. 

“Sure. Of course. So what are you doing with yourself post bio-chem, Jared?” 

“Besides working here?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Still going to school.” 

“For what?” 

“Nursing.” 

“Seriously?” 

“What’s so funny about that, Jensen? I like taking care of people. I’d rather not sit around and diagnose people all day.” 

“No, no. I get that. Just don’t tell me you want to go into labor and delivery.” 

Jared’s eyes narrow at him. “And what if I did? What if I told you I freaking love delivering babies.” 

Actually. Now that Jensen thinks about it, Jared with his hair pulled back, face full of five o’clock stubble, wearing blue scrubs and holding a tiny, pink, screaming newborn baby. 

Yeah. That’s fucking hot. 

“I’d say you’d probably be the best goddamn delivery nurse out there.” 

Jared smiles then, and extinguishes his cigarette between his thumb and index finger. “Good answer, Doc. I gotta get back to my job now, but hey, catch you later.” 

Jensen stands shell-shocked against the brick wall, because that was so not how he pictured spending five minutes in an alleyway with Jared. 

And he definitely spends the rest of the afternoon with his hand wrapped around his dick, teasing his foreskin over the top and then backing off, until when he finally comes, it’s to the image of shooting his load all over Jared’s well used ass. 

\--

“Free dance?” Jared asks the next Sunday, wearing a cowboy hat and boots, along with a pair of black boy shorts that have the words ‘bite me’ written across his ass in red letters. 

“No thanks,” Jensen says in between mouthfuls of scrambled eggs. Not that he’d be adverse to Jared writhing around on top of him, but definitely not while he’s eating breakfast. And preferably while Jared’s not on the clock. 

Jared sits down across from him then and closes his textbook (even though Jensen slips a finger in so he won’t lose his spot on page 1089). 

“I don’t get it. Why do you come here if you’re straight?” 

Awkward. 

“I’m actually not straight.” 

“So you like guys.” 

Jensen nods. 

“Just not…me?” 

“What? No. Of course I like you-- ” he gets cut off before he can make any further declarations. 

“Then why do you come here every Sunday, sit in my section, take a fucking smoke break with me even though you don’t smoke, but refuse to let me dance for you?” 

Jared actually looks interested in his response, leaning towards him, forearms pressed against the slightly sticky wooden table. 

“Well…y’all make really good eggs…”

“You know what? I give up. Just, sit in someone else’s section next time, Doc. I can’t take you sitting there, licking grease off your fingers anymore. You’re driving me goddamn crazy.” 

Wait. He’s driving Jared crazy?

“Hey,” he says, reaching across the table to grasp Jared’s hand before he can get up and flaunt his long, hairless legs and mole-spotted back. “I’d like to get to know you.” 

“Got a smoke break coming up.” 

“Thought you smoked your final one last week.” 

“Yeah. I did.” 

“Okay…”

Jared gets up, and looks back at Jensen, muscles rippling in a way that makes Jensen want to study each and every one of them. 

“You coming, or what?” 

Jensen scrambles to his feet, leaving his half-finished Bloody Mary on the table. 

It’s colder outside this morning, and Jensen pulls his jacket tight around his body before remembering that Jared’s the one without almost any clothing on. 

“Hey, you want my jacket or something?” 

“Sure,” Jared says, like it’s no big deal, like he’s not shivering. 

It doesn’t fit. Of course it doesn’t, Jared’s got at least thirty pounds of muscle on him, but it’s hot watching Jared try to fit his arms inside. 

It’s also hot when Jared backs him up against the wall and kisses him. Jared bites at his lips until he opens up, and then Jared’s everywhere. His hot breath in Jensen’s mouth. Warm, long fingers and wide palms making their way underneath Jensen’s shirt, tweaking his nipples before finding their way down to Jensen’s ass and pressing him close against what’s got to be the biggest boner that Jensen’s ever felt. 

Shit. If this is going to be a regular thing, he should start practicing deep-throating bananas or something. 

“Jared, fuck. I’m gonna come in my pants if you keep this up,” he groans, head tilted back as Jared sucks a bruise into his neck. 

“Hm,” Jared replies, coming up for air, taking the time to nip at Jensen’s jaw-line before rubbing his cheek against Jensen’s, all the while pressing him harder against the brick wall. “You making a mess of yourself is pretty hot, but I’ve got a better alternative.” 

“Oh yeah?” 

“Mhmm,”Jared hums, palming Jensen’s crotch before sinking to his knees. “Been dreaming about this since I met you. Can’t wait to see if you’ve got freckles on your dick.” 

Luckily, Jensen’s already flushed, otherwise he’d be turning bright red around now. 

“Guess you’ll just have to see,” he says, making it through the sentence without stammering. Then Jared unzips his pants and reaches inside, wrapping his entire hand around Jensen’s length. 

“Oh fuck.” His head tips back to rest against the red brick while Jared takes his first, long lick. His tongue is broad, curves easily around him, tasting every square inch of his shaft before tonguing underneath the head and then licking up, pressing gently into slit, like he wants to suck out Jensen’s brains. 

Jared doesn’t deep throat him. Doesn’t swallow dick like a pro, or like he’s done it for money, like Jensen’s only one in a thousand alley-way blowjobs. 

Instead, he slides Jensen in between the slick, firm ridges of his teeth and the soft, fleshy warmth of his cheek, the juxtaposition perfect. 

Jensen fucks him then, one hand in Jared’s pulled-back hair, the other tracing the outline of his dick through Jared’s cheek, able to see with startling clarity himself inside Jared’s body. 

“Yes, please. Yes,” he moans as Jared starts to jack his base in a quick motion designed to get him off fast. He succeeds, coming with Jared’s nose pressed against his pubic bone, feeling Jared swallow his come. 

“Good?” Jared asks shyly as he stands up, a few pieces of gravel embedded into his knees. 

Jensen wipes them off, and pulls Jared by his own jacket down for a kiss. 

“Perfect. But I’d like to get to know you better. Maybe, uh. With both of our clothes on next time.” 

Jared smiles against him, teeth knocking into his own with a loud click. 

“Sounds like a plan. You free next weekend?” 

Jensen rubs circles into Jared’s navel before reaching down, only to find Jared’s dick soft, and a cooling wet mess in the front of his shorts. 

“I could make time.” 

“How about breakfast. Next Saturday. My place, I’ll cook.” 

“Eggs?” 

“I’ll even give you a lap dance if you want one.” 

Jensen huffs, because he’s never been in to lap dances or strippers (although he’s totally down with nurses)—but for Jared. He’s willing to give it a try. 

“Alright big boy. Eggs and lap dance it is.” 

It’s not until he’s halfway home, book tucked underneath his arm, that he realizes that Jared still has his jacket. He thinks about turning around and going back, before deciding against it. Really, it’s the perfect reason to call Jared before Saturday.


End file.
